


i've been a forest fire

by papercr0wns



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Other, Panic Attacks, Peter Nureyev Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Title from a Mitski Song, Vomiting, because yk. i'm gay, he gets his hug but at what cost, juno being a good girlfriend for 2k words straight, juno calls nureyev baby/honey/sweetheart and i'll die on that hill, rated T for juno saying the f-ck word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28541943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papercr0wns/pseuds/papercr0wns
Summary: Peter Nureyev was by no means unfamiliar with nightmares. It was part of the reason he and Juno had started sharing a bed so quickly after they smoothed things over; both of them slept better.Still, shaking, screaming nightmares were much more common for Juno- though they were far less frequent now than they had been.Peter’s were- better didn’t seem like the right word, but less violent, maybe. Most nights he’d manage to fall back asleep without waking Juno- a notoriously light sleeper- at all, just by grounding himself with the feeling of Juno pressed up against him and the slow, even rhythm of his breathing.But this was different. This was worse.or, a study on why compartmentalization Isn't That Great, Actually.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 32
Kudos: 164





	i've been a forest fire

**Author's Note:**

> so this is far longer than intended, and most of it was written while watching the finale of breaking bad with my family, so. take that for what you will. i'd meant to publish my other WIP before this one but then uh. surprise what lies beyond part 2 happened and i thought i'd get this done before i listen to that on the 5th lol. anyways i hope you like this! 
> 
> TWs for graphic/extended description of panic/panic attacks, mentions of blood/violence, and largely non-graphic description of vomiting. please take care of yourselves! ilysm!! <3 <3 <3
> 
> title from "a burning hill" by mitski, which has incredibly strong nureyev energy imo (but then again maybe i am just Gay and Sad)

Peter Nureyev was by no means unfamiliar with nightmares. It was part of the reason he and Juno had started sharing a bed so quickly after they smoothed things over; both of them slept better. 

Still, shaking, screaming nightmares were much more common for Juno- though they were far less frequent now than they had been. 

Peter’s were- _better_ didn’t seem like the right word, but less violent, maybe. Most nights he’d manage to fall back asleep without waking Juno- a notoriously light sleeper- at all, just by grounding himself with the feeling of Juno pressed up against him and the slow, even rhythm of his breathing. 

But this was different. This was _worse_ , Peter decided as he jackknifed up in bed, gasping like a steadily tightening vice had been clamped around his rib cage, forcing the air from his lungs until he was doubled over, sobs ripping through him so violently that he shook almost convulsively. 

He couldn’t even remember what he’d dreamt of, not wholly- just snatches of blood and red lights and playing cards and empty hotel beds all mixed together in a kaleidoscopic horror so vivid that he swore he could smell copper in the air and feel phantom pains ricocheting up his spine. 

Peter reflexively reached out to grab for Juno’s hand, then stopped himself halfway, hand hovering shakily above the sheets. Usually, something as minute as the ship creaking as it settled would wake him, and yet, when Peter pulled his head up from his knees to look, Juno was still sound asleep, curled up on his side and snoring softly. He’d been exhausted, Peter remembered; their last job had left him absolutely bone-tired, so much so that he’d fallen asleep on Peter’s shoulder in the back of the Ruby 7. 

To wake him now felt like an unforgivable sin, and yet… Peter couldn’t think of anything else to do, sat wheezing and sobbing so hard he nearly choked on each wet inhale. He hadn’t had an… _episode_ like this since, well since Juno had left him in Hyperion, and all he remembered of that was sobbing on the floor of a spaceport bathroom until he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Doing it all again- alone, especially when Juno was _right there_ \- didn’t feel survivable. 

Gathering the last of his composure _,_ Peter reached over to shake Juno awake with a trembling hand. 

“Juno,” he called, voice high and thready, as Juno stirred, “ _Juno_.”

Juno grumbled half-heartedly and started to push Peter’s hand from his shoulder, but stopped dead when he opened his eyes and saw Peter, frantic, looking to him for help. 

“Oh, fuck,” Juno breathed as he sat up, taking Peter’s hand, “What’s wrong? What happened?” 

Peter collapsed forward into Juno’s chest, clutching at his back like he was afraid Juno might disappear.

“Shit- hey, hey, baby, it’s alright,” Juno soothed as Peter tried to press his way closer, practically climbing into Juno’s lap. 

“You wanna be held then, yeah? That would help?” Juno asked, waiting until Peter nodded against his chest to wrap his arms around Peter and tug him closer, rubbing circles on the small of his back. 

“‘S’alright,” he repeated, “I’m right here. You’re safe.”

Peter whined a high, desperate sound, shaking his head against Juno’s collarbone. 

“No what, baby?” Juno asked, lifting a hand to cradle the back of Peter’s head, fingers laced through his hair. 

“No you’re not safe?” Peter shook his head again, and Juno made a soft, questioning sound in reply. 

“No it’s not alright?” he guessed, and Peter nodded, muffling heaving sobs into Juno’s neck. He’d expected just having Juno awake with him would help, but it hadn’t- if anything, Peter only felt worse, suddenly completely incapable of taking a breath through his tears. 

“Okay, honey, okay- I hear you. We’re gonna fix it, but I need you to take some deep breaths for me first, ok?” Juno said, voice calm and laced with a gentle warmth Peter wanted to drown in. Juno started to count out a breath- _in, one_ \- but Peter couldn’t even draw enough breath to hold before his lungs seized up and forced it out again. 

“I can’t-“ he gasped out, shaking violently against Juno’s chest, “I can’t, I can’t-“ Juno cut him off with a flurry of gentle shushing, but Peter could barely hear him through the pounding in his ears. Vaguely, he wondered if this was what dying felt like. He imagined this might be worse; this feeling of being simultaneously locked in a nauseous, light-headed body shaking hard enough to hurt and a mind floating somewhere thousands of miles away.

“-reyev, listen to me. Focus on me.” Juno’s voice sounded as if it were swamped in fog, and Peter realized, guilty, that he’d been speaking for a while. 

“This will pass. It’ll pass, and you’ll be okay, but I need you to breathe. You need to try for me, baby, I know you can.” Something about the way Juno said it made Peter want to believe him, even as he tried, again and again, to breathe with the rhythm Juno counted out for him, and still couldn’t manage to calm his breathing.

On one particularly rough inhale, something bitter rose in Peter’s throat and he gagged on it, stomach twisting. He jerked a bit in Juno’s hold, pulling back, and Juno, bless him, understood. 

“Are you gonna be sick?” he asked and helped Peter up when he nodded, leading him to kneel on the floor in front of their ensuite’s toilet. Juno settled behind him, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist and gently holding his hair back from his forehead as he heaved.

“You’re doing great, honey,” Juno soothed as Peter tapered off into dry heaving, “Bein’ so brave for me.” Peter couldn’t see how Juno thought him making himself physically sick with panic over _nothing_ made him brave, but… He couldn’t deny that it felt nice to hear it. To hear that even if his mind was still alight with fear over the memory of what Mag’s blood had felt like under his nails or the way the shrill cry of his burner comms’ ringtone made his heart skip, he didn’t have to worry that Juno thought less of him for it. 

Eventually, Peter’s stomach settled enough for him to slump back against Juno’s chest as his breathing edged away from hyperventilation and into what could charitably be called ‘shallow’. 

“There you go, sweetheart. Good job,” Juno said, pressing a kiss to Peter’s clammy forehead, “Better?”

“Much,” Peter replied, wincing at the raspiness of his voice, “Thank you, darling.” Juno dropped another kiss to Peter’s hair, tugging him closer.

“‘Course. Thanks for waking me up. I know it’s hard to ask, sometimes, but you shouldn’t have to deal with that alone.” _I couldn’t have_ , Peter didn’t say. Instead, he nodded weakly, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion so heavy it makes his head tip back against Juno’s shoulder.

“Tired?” Juno asked, and Peter nodded again, “Okay. Let’s get you cleaned up, first, and then we can go back to bed. Lemme up a sec?” Peter sat up enough for Juno to stand, though Juno hovered near him for a moment as if he expected Peter to keel over. To be completely fair, Peter thought he might, too, still feeling shivery and wrung-out.   
“‘Kay,” Juno said when he didn’t, “Stay put. I’ll be right back.” Peter watched as Juno walked back into their bedroom, propping the bathroom door open so Peter could still see him if he wanted. And Peter _did_ want, he realized because everything he’d just stirred up still felt too close, too real, and being able to see Juno, dressed in one of Peter’s shirts and a pair of obnoxiously bright pink sleep shorts that Rita had bought for him soothed some sharp-edged, desperate thing in Peter’s chest.

Juno returned a minute or so later with one of his softest hoodies and the water bottle Peter kept on his nightstand.

“Here,” Juno passed Peter his water bottle, helping him wrap his still trembling hands around it, “Little sips, baby, slow. Can brush your teeth in a minute, if you want.” 

“Mm, please,” Peter breathed, sipping tentatively at the water and grimacing a bit as it washed away the acrid taste of bile.

Juno stood, exchanging, the hoodie for a clean washcloth from their cabinet and wetting it under the tap. 

He helped Peter take his shirt -wrinkled and soaked through with cold sweat- off, and ran the damp rag over his neck and shoulders, folded it in on itself, and gently wiped the sweat and tear tracks from Peter’s face. 

Juno smiled as Peter leaned into his hand, “Hey there, handsome.” 

“Oh, please,” Peter scoffed, sniffling, “I must look… I don’t know, abjectly pathetic right now.” Juno rolled his eyes, playfully slapping Peter with the washrag before he tossed it into the sink.

“You’re a little sweaty,” he joked, “but you’re still beautiful. And I’m proud of you.” Juno leaned forward and kissed Peter on the cheek, “Now put this on; it’ll help with the chills.” He passed Peter his hoodie, and Peter shrugged it on, reveling in the soft, warm fabric that smelled lightly of vanilla and coffee and _Juno_. 

“Hey, babe?”

“Dear.”

“Can I ask you something?” Peter nodded, shifting around to lean on Juno, sighing happily when Juno tucked an arm around his shoulders.

“It’s not, like, an _accusation,_ or anything, but I want you to be honest with me, okay?” 

“...Okay,” Peter replied, a bit hesitant. Being honest was not a practiced skill in his repertoire, but for Juno, he was willing to try.

“How long has it been you cried? Like, really, honestly, just let yourself freak out.” Peter tilted his head, shrugging a bit.

“I don’t know, a year, maybe a little longer.”

“And when was the last time you _wanted_ to?” Peter shifted nervously, tucking his head into Juno’s neck.

“I… Frequently, I suppose. I’ve been stressed, recently, as you know, but I-”

“Shh, Nureyev, hey,” Juno interrupted, moving his hand from Peter’s shoulder to his hair, running his fingers through it. Peter relaxed back into Juno’s side with a shudder, never realizing that he’d tensed up at all.

“That’s not a wrong answer, hon,” Juno continued, “There’s not a wrong answer. I just think that’s where your problem is. I mean, I know better than anyone that when you bottle shit up like that for long enough it blows up in your face. Something happens, you hit a limit, whatever, start crying about one thing, and then you gotta cry about it all of it. Feels like shit, obviously.” Juno paused, leaning his cheek on the top of Peter’s head.

“You can’t keep doing it, is my point. I know it’s not easy to just, like- _stop_ , but you can’t let all that stress build up until you break down like that. Hell, _I_ can’t sit and watch you do it,” Juno sighed deeply and leaned back, cradling Peter’s face in his hands, “I just wanna help you, sweetheart.” Peter’s heart twisted, fluttering in his chest. Bottling things up- compartmentalizing and filing things away was what he’d done for most of his life, and the prospect of stopping that was… Daunting, to say the least, but as Juno fixed him with a look so alight with love it felt like it could burn Peter if he touched it, well. It felt possible, at least, with Juno’s help and maybe, if he could manage it, some support from the rest of the crew. From their _family_. 

“I… I’ll try, Juno.” Juno smiled brightly and kissed Peter’s forehead.

“Thank you,” he said, planting another kiss on the corner of Peter’s mouth as his lips quirked up in a wobbly smile, “That’s all I could ask for.” 

Peter started to reply, then cut off with a yawn. 

Juno laughed fondly, “Bed?” Peter nodded, taking Juno’s hand as he helped him up. 

“Love you,” Peter managed through another yawn.

“Love you back.” Peter leaned down to kiss Juno, but Juno stopped him with a finger to his lips.

“No kisses until you brush your teeth,” Juno teased, pressing up on his toes to kiss Peter’s cheek when he pouted.

Juno steered Peter gently towards the sink, “Before you fall over, baby, come on.” 

Juno looped his arms around Peter’s waist, leaning against his back as he brushed his teeth, then led him back to bed, holding the blankets up as Peter snuggled into his side.

Tucked into Juno’s arms, feeling his heartbeat and the slow rise and fall of his chest against his cheek, Peter could almost shrug off everything that had threatened to choke him earlier- the blood and the fear and the debt- and trust that, if nothing else, he wouldn’t have to face any of it alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so so much for reading!! i owe you my life. anyone who leaves a comment/kudos will be entitled to a single home-cooked casserole of their choice, courtesy of my cottagecore lesbian kitchen. feel free to come hang out with me on tumblr (@gently-used-fairytale) if you'd like to listen to me yell or drop me a prompt, which i'll get to as soon as i get a chance. i sometimes ask for opinions on WIPs there too if that's something you want in on asjhfsjhf 
> 
> anyways i love you all very very much & i hope you're having a stellar 2021 so far!! remember to drink water and take care of yourselves please :)
> 
> -ec <3


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